


Hawke and Varric have a Drink

by tyrannsauroswrex



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, FemHawke - Freeform, Fenris - Freeform, Hawke - Freeform, fenhawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4771148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrannsauroswrex/pseuds/tyrannsauroswrex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke and Fenris enjoy a night of passion together, after Hadriana's death, which leaves them both empty after Fenris ends it. But when Leandra goes missing, the two are forced together again, after days of ignoring their feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing because I love Fenris and Hawke together. I'm in my senior year of college so this is my little break between homework, thus why the chapters are so short. There is sex in this so be warned. Please leave any feedback! :)

Hawke stretched, yawned, and felt the left side of the bed. Nothing. She sat up, still groggy but satisfied to see Fenris, already dressed, leaning against the fireplace. She felt a tang of, (something), embarrassment maybe. He looked confused and vulnerable, living up to his name for the first time since they met. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat.  
“That bad, huh?” she joked, attempting to capture her usual light hearted air. Fenris turned, startled, and his expression softened. Hawke’s heart slowed and she patted the bed beside her, “Sit with me.”  
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t,” he mumbled, casting his silent green eyes downward.  
“Did they hurt? Your markings, I mean?” Fenris glanced at his arms where his lyrium markings shown in the light from the fireplace.  
“No, or not as badly as I had thought they would. Hawke,” he said stepping tentatively forward, “it was, you were amazing, better than I could’ve imagined but...”  
“But what?”  
“My memories, they came flooding back so quickly, I was unprepared, and then they were gone. Everything I wanted, I’d lost, was in my grasp and then was torn away from me again. It was too much.”  
“Don’t you want them back? Perhaps we should try again, and this time you’ll be expecting it. I’ll gladly help you with that,” she practically purred, leaning back on her hands. His eyes widened in shock and he stepped back.  
“I don’t think you understand how hard that was, my former life snatched away just as I was beginning to remember. I could almost see my mother’s face, remember a Tevinter in which I wasn’t alone, wasn’t Danarius’ pet. And then it was ripped away from me,” He hit the mantle, shutting his eyes in an attempt to gain control of his emotions and ignore Hawke’s accusing stare. “I can’t go through that again, I’m sorry Hawke. I was selfish, just wanted to be happy for a while. I’m sorry, I have to go,” He walked past her bed, and shut the door quietly behind him. She heard Bodahn wish Fenris a good night and then he was gone.  
Her chest felt tight and the back of her eyes stung, hot. Just a few hours ago, she and Fenris had been kissing, his strong hands on her hips, her breasts, tangled in her hair. His breathing rapid. His breath sweet. She’d traced his markings with her finger tips, careful not to hurt him, and kissed his scars. They had rolled together in her sheets. Afterwards, they had drifted off to sleep with their fingers still intertwined.  
She stood up, wavered slightly on her feet, and stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were puffy, though she didn’t remember crying. She traced her fingers along her long neck, where his lips had been seemingly moments before.  
Sitting here will drive me crazy, she thought. Her room still smelled like him, her pillows, her sheets. She sat on her bed, pulled on her boots, and tied back her hair. She got up, checking herself once more in the mirror, and headed out the door. She tip toed past her mother’s room and bid Bodahn good night. She opened her front door and stepped out into the the dark Hightown night.  
She made her way to the Hanged Man, eyes stinging from the cold wind. She wiped her cheeks as she opened the door to the bar, and scanned the crowded room for Varric. He was there all right, drinking with Isabela and undoubtably telling outlandish stories about her. She smiled, tears spilling over, as she walked over to his table. She tapped him on the shoulder and gave Isabela a watery look and shook her head no to say she didn’t want to talk about it. Varric’s normally cheerful face clouded over when he saw Hawke. He got up from the table and led her to the bar.  
“Two, please,” the bartender turned to get them their drinks and he waited for Hawke to speak. She sniffled as she took one of the pints and cradled it against her chest. Varric took a swig of his and sighed deeply.  
“Hawke.”  
“It’s Fenris, he--” she sighed and took a sip of her drink. It burned her throat and warmed her stomach. “He ended things, so I guess you guys were all right. He wasn’t good for me or whatever it was you said.”  
“Ended things?” he snickered, “Did things ever begin?”  
“I guess, just now. After we finished dealing with Hadirana, he came over and...and then he left. Said it was too much, and left.”  
“My, I didn’t know ol’ Broody had it in him,” Varric smirked and took another gulp from his drink. Hawke drank as well, relishing as the warmth in her stomach spread. “I’m kidding Hawke, mostly. I’m sorry, I am. But you know what they say, the cure for a broken heart is a lot of alcohol.”  
“Who says that?”  
“Well, maybe not they, but I do. Now come on, drink with me,” he raised his drink and drained it. Hawke followed his lead.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke stumbled out of the Hanged Man a few hours later, with her coat slung over her shoulder, and leaned her back against the closed door. The world was spinning, her head was pounding to the beat of her heart, and the Hightown street doubled up in front of her eyes, but she felt okay. Better than okay. She’d almost forgotten how his breath felt against the back of her neck.  
She pushed off the wall, craving her bed and her silky sheets against her legs. She could see the sun peeking out over the horizon, already spilling a gentle pink light over the still sleeping town. It hurt her head. She giggled to herself, sweeping her sweaty hair off of her forehead. She walked home, trailing her hand along the walls to steady herself, with closed eyes against the growing light and her building headache.  
Varric, Isabela, and Merrill had filled her up with alcohol and good jokes, and she gladly let them. Varric made sure her cup was never empty while Bela told dirty joke after dirty joke. Merrill had fallen asleep with her head on the table early in the night after Bela finally showed her what belly shots were. The alcohol soaked up her tears and replaced them with red nosed laughter.  
She arrived at her house as the day broke and people began filling out of their houses. She crawled up the staircase, scuffing her feet on the final step, and almost fell to her knees. She slunk past her mom’s room quietly, knowing she wouldn’t approve of her getting mixed up with an ex-slave. Their family was already under enough scrutiny as it was. The door to her room creaked open and she hid herself under the blanket. Hawke drifted off almost immediately. Her blankets still smelled like Fenris. 

Fenris sat on the edge of his bed and stared out the open window. He had just returned home from Hawke’s and his legs were still shaky. Had they really kissed? Had she really moaned his name? Had she really pressed her lips against his chest? It seemed so long ago already. Did it happen at all? His head hurt.  
His memories had flooded back as Hawke arched hers, and it hit him like a train. He could remember everything. His mother’s gentle smile as she hung laundry on the line. Their old house where he and his sister would play while his mother worked. The smell of wheat and charcoal which dominated his childhood. He also remembered Danarius, and how he had snatched his life away. He tainted his skin, his hair, and his memories with his filthy lyrium.  
Hawke fell asleep in his arms as his memories faded away again, leaving an aching pain in his chest. He felt dirty, he felt scared, and most of all, he felt alone. He needed to leave. Leave before they came back, and he needed to cut things off with Hawke before he lost her too.  
He dressed clumsily in the dark, trying his best not to wake her. She wouldn’t admit it to him, or anyone, but she was tired. She looked so young as she slept, her face free of worry for once. He stood, fully clothed now and less sure than ever, and watched her chest rise and fall with each breath. How could he leave her when he had finally found her at last? He snapped back to reality, his hand subconsciously reaching out to wake her. He couldn’t pull her into his mess. It wasn’t fair to her and he couldn’t face the possibility of hurting her. He turned to leave, stopping to examine her mantel over the fireplace. There was an old letter, yellow and cracked with age, with her name written sloppily on the front. He touched it tentatively with the tips of his fingers, wondering who the letter was from...  
He laid his head on his pillow and stared at the ceiling. He had to stop torturing himself by replaying the look on her face as he left. It was for the best, he reminded himself. Wasn’t it? He wondered what she was doing now.  
He put his arm over his eyes and slept. And dreamed.


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke woke the next morning to the bright afternoon light streaming in through her window and a splitting headache.  
“That’s the last time I drink with Varric,” she moaned, sitting up slowly. “Or ever. Yeah, probably the last time I drink ever.” Hawke sat on the edge of her bed with her sheets wrapped around her aching body, and took inventory of herself. She was hung over, that was obvious. She was alone in her huge bed, also obvious. Her hair was a mess, tangled and sweaty from her constant tossing and turning. Her eyes were puffy and red, whether from crying or drinking she didn’t know. Probably both, she conceded.  
“Hawke, it’s late. Are you awake?” her mom asked, knocking softly on her bedroom door. Her mother walked in, her greying hair pulled back in a tight bun, and smiled an understanding but questioning smile. “You don’t have to tell me, but you can.”  
“I know, mom,” she said, taking her mother’s hand and leaning her cheek against it. When she was a child, she would hold her mom’s hand every night until she fell asleep. Her dad was often busy with Bethany, so she and her mom were close.  
Their relationship had been rocky since they left Lothering, and they lost Carver. Hawke knew her mom blamed her. She blamed herself, too. But this, the familiar smell of her mother’s perfume seemed right. Hawke put aside their past differences for the moment to just breathe in her mother’s smell. She leaned her head against Leandra’s shoulder and closed her eyes.  
“Is it a man? A woman? Tell me, darling, what’s happened?” She wiped her nose on the back of her hand before leaning her head back to look up at her mom.  
“It’s nothing. If it was something, but he ended it right after he started it. I’ll be fine, though.”  
“Alright, I won’t pester you for details. But, whoever it was, is a foolish man,” Leandra said, taking her daughter’s chin in her hands and touching their foreheads together.  
“Thanks, mother. Varric said the same thing, you know,” Hawke smiled and blinked her tears away. Leandra got up, smoothing the front of her dress, and closed the door softly behind her.  
Hawke smirked to herself, and got up from her bed, and walked over to her mirror. She combed her fingers through her hair and looked herself once over. No bruises, not cuts, no love bites from their night together. Good, she thought. Would be best for everyone if she just pretended nothing happened. I wish it hand’t happened. 

Fenris jolted awake, his heart pounding in his throat.He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see. The light screaming in his room from outside was blinding him and he could smell pavali all around him. He was drowning in it. He’s not here, he doesn’t know where I am, he can’t. It’s been so long, why would he find me now. Fenris pulled his knees to his chest and squeezed his head between them. He’s not here he’s not here he’s not not here not not here notherenotherenotherenot  
Fenris sobbed, his cries tearing through his body. Flashes of his mother’s face, smiling but dead blurred in front of him. A woman, an elf whose eyes were the same color as his. And a name. A name he didn’t recognize, but yearned for nonetheless, was echoed around in his head. Leto. Leto Leto Leto. He couldn’t place the voice, but it had a Tevinter accent. It sounded kind. Fenris tore the sheets off his bed and threw them in the corner. They were suffocating him like the stench of wine on Danarius’ breath. He could feel his hand around his throat. Could feel could see could hear  
My little wolf, you’ve been so good today  
“No, please,” he whimpered into his palm, bitting down to keep quiet. He couldn’t breathe.

Hawke straightened her shirt and pulled on her boots before leaving to meet the others at the Hanged Man. She was slightly embarrassed about whatever she may have done last night, but knew she had to face them eventually. Her stomach knotted at the thought of seeing Fenris. How would he react? Did he miss her? Did he regret everything? She didn’t think she wanted to know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm procrastinating my homework by writing my first (kinda) sex scene. I will try and write a small chapter a night until I'm finished :)

Hawke arrived, breathlessly, at the Hanged Man a half an hour later to find Anders, Isabela, Varric, and Merrill talking together at a table. Merrill waved her over. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves, and sat down with her friends. Varric clapped her on the shoulder and poured her a drink.  
“Oh no, you sneaky dwarf,” she said, half-laughing, and pushed the mug away.   
“Still hurting, huh, Hawke?”  
“Lightweight.”  
“Oh shove it, Bela. We can’t all be like you.”  
“I know, Kitten, and it’s dreadfully sad, isn’t it?” She winked, and took the drink Hawke turned down for herself.  
“How are you today, Hawke? Better, I hope?” Merrill asked, taking her hands in hers.   
“Did I miss something last night?” Anders eyed Hawke, his drink halfway to his lips.  
“Mm, you bet it did. Our good pal Hawke and the Tevinter elf finally had it out.”  
“Bela, please. Nothing happened, it’s nothing. Isabela and Varric just like getting me really drunk, is all.”  
“I see, you and the elf.”  
“Please, it’s nothing, guys. Can we just drop it?”  
“Sure, Hawke. Consider it dropped,” Varric poured everyone another drink. Even Hawke, who gave in and took one. 

Fenris stood in his room, still wet from his pitiful excuse for a bath. As always, it was cold but the warm water burned his skin and irritated his markings. He toweled off, staring at himself in the mirror. His hair was damp and stuck to his face. Beads of water rolled down his stomach and dripped on the floor. He looked with disdain at the markings covering his body. They followed his body downward, from his head to his feet, interrupted only by his scars. Mostly self inflected, but Danarius had awarded him a few of his own when he wasn’t particularly agreeable. Danarius would strike him with his magic, as would Hadriana, and he was powerless to stop it.   
Hawke had traced her fingertips along his marks, trailing from his chest, to his stomach, to his  
He shivered, remembering how warm her hand had been around him.   
How could he have been so stupid to let her go. No, to send her away.   
He had recoiled, at first, from her touch. It was unexpected, how she had grabbed him as he tried to turn away. He was scared, his mind immediately going to Danarius and pavali scented nightmares. But, her face. Her endlessly blue eyes had brought him back.   
And then, they were kissing, her tongue teasing his. He could feel her smile on his lips, and her hands on his hips. She had pushed herself ever closer, her body mingling with his. His mind shut off when she kissed him, and all he could see, feel, think, hear was her.   
For the first time in a life time, he was free of Danarius.   
She pulled him up the stairs to her room and he had followed eagerly. She undressed him slowly, taking time to kiss each of his scars. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to believe it was happening at all. She kissed his chest, his stomach, she kissed the scars on his arms and his wrists. The cuts on his hands. She kissed every mark on his body and, for once, he loved them. He laid her on the bed and untied her robe. His breath hitched in his throat as she lay there naked in front of him.   
She, too, was a mosaic of battle scars. He stood and took her all in, he stared at her marks, her freckles, her body.   
“You’re beautiful, Hawke,” he whispered in her ear as he climbed on top of her. She was warm.   
“You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”  
He kissed her again.

Her touch had been enough to banish Danarius from his mind for a few moments, but eventually (as always), he clawed his way back into his consciousness. Hawke unlocked memories of the abuse he suffered under the hand and house of the magister, and it terrified him. Memories of his mother and sister also wormed their way inside, begging for his attention. Hawke’s breath began to sound like his master’s and the night was tainted. Hawke was beauty, and light and yet, somehow, Danarius had found a way to paint her black.   
He was so afraid. He had left to spare Hawke from discovering the truth about him, and to protect himself from the already fading memories. He couldn’t go through with that again, he wouldn’t remember the way his mother called out his name with the same accent as his master.


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris finished getting dressed and locked the front door behind him. He knew where they would be, and it was getting late. Was she worried?  
He took his time, of course. Walking slowly, and kicking stray rocks he happened to pass. His shadow stretched out behind him and he couldn’t put it off any longer. He swallowed and opened the door to the Hanged Man. 

The door opened, spilling the dimming day light in the crowded bar. Hawke paid no attention. She was pleasantly drunk, and watching with barely contained laughter as Varric told of the time she defeated a dragon single handedly and rescued the Viscount’s son from atop a tower. The tower seemed a little much, but his audience hinged on his every slightly slurred word. Isabela sat beside her, quietly watching the rest of the bar, as she always did. She perked up when the door opened and her stomach gnawed at her. She shot a look at Varric, who paused in his retelling, much to the disappointment of his audience.  
Hawke scrunched her eyebrows, confused, and turned around. And caught her breath. The color drained from her face and she quickly cast her embarrassed eyes downward.

Fenris stood in the open door, looking unsure. He scanned the suddenly silent bar for his friends.  
He spotted Hawke, in the middle of a group as always. She wasn’t looking at him, purposefully avoiding his gaze. It hurt him but he understood. Fine, Hawke, he thought. I’ll pretend like nothing happened, if that’s what you want.  
He walked over, feeling all eyes on his (or was that his imagination?). He felt hot, and his markings hummed all over his skin.  
“Hey, Broody,” Varric said, breaking the silence.  
“Varric, Bela,” he cleared his throat, “Hawke.” She smiled at him politely as he pulled up a chair. The people around Varric, possibly sensing the tension in the group, dispersed.  
“No Merrill? Or Anders?”  
“Nah, they left earlier.”  
“Have you been here all day?” Fenris waved over a drink.  
“Yeah, and poor Hawke was here all night too,” Isabela elbowed Hawke’s side. Fenris drank deeply from his mug, he could feel his ears burning.  
“Shove it, Bela,” she pushed off from the table and went to the bar for another drink. And to get away from his big green eyes. She couldn’t stand to watch him act like nothing happened.  
“You made her leave,” Isabela giggled drunkenly and pinched his cheeks. “If you and Hawke aren’t an item anymore, maybe you and I could... Oh! Your ears are blushing again!”   
“Isabela, leave the kid alone. You should probably go talk to her, Broody.”  
“I don’t know, dwarf. She was pretty upset last night,” he mumbled, massaging the back of his neck like he always did when he was uncomfortable. He could still see the look in her eyes when he turned away from her. Varric stared after Hawke, who was still sitting at the bar with her head in her hands and her drink between her elbows. Isabela, cheeks flushed and with another drink in her hand, nodded along with Varric.  
“She looks lost, I think you two should talk. Or do it again,” she giggled, taking another sip of her drink, spilling it down her shirt. “Oh shoot.”  
“You’re vulgar, woman.” Fenris glanced back at Hawke, her head was still bent over her untouched drink. He took a swig of Isabela’s drink to calm his nerves and walked through the crowd to Hawke.  
He tapped her on the shoulder and cleared his throat. She sighed and dipped her head further down.  
“What do you want?”  
“I, uh. I wanted to say hi, you left when I got here and we didn’t get the chance to, uh, talk and uh...” He trailed off, focusing on his feet. Anything to avoid her. She still hand’t turned around and he felt awful. His chest felt tight and his heart crashed against his ribs.  
“Thanks,” she said, taking the first sip of her drink.  
“Hawke, I-”  
“I said thanks, Fenris,” she still hadn’t turned around, her shoulders were hunched as she drained her drink.  
“Fine, Hawke. I’ll leave you be, but I am sorry,” he said, biting his lip to keep his voice steady. His waved goodbye to Varric and Isabela, who were of course watching his every move, and left Hawke in the Hanged Man.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a quick writing I did before work today :) will post a longer chapter tomorrow or the next day!

“That was harsh, Hawke,” Varric said, hoisting himself on the barstool to her right.  
“Yeah, I know but--”  
“Hey, I’m not asking for a justification. Just saying. Two please.” The bartender poured them both another drink, and Varric clinked his against Hawke’s. “To, hell, to whatever! Come on, Hawke. Drink a little, don’t let that elf ruin your night.” She drank to kill the memories of his hand on the small of her back and his teeth on her collar bone. 

Fenris returned home a few moments later, sore and tired. That drink had gone to his head more quickly and harder than he had anticipated. He hadn’t eaten all day. He made to change out of his clothes but stopped. It was a nice night, and he often didn’t get to enjoy it without someone somewhere swinging a sword at him. Downside of being with Hawke, he thought.  
He strolled through Hightown as the gentry of Kirkwall settled in their beds. The moon was out. It was full. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and just walked, enjoying the breeze on his face. He slowed his pace outside of Hawke’s house, where not a single light was one upstairs. Leandra must be out. But where are Bodahn and Sandal? Asleep?  
“Who cares,” he snapped, turning and walking in the opposite direction. Who cares who cares who fucking cares. 

“Hawke?”  
“Hmmm watzyouwant?”  
“Come on, Hawke. Let’s get you home,” Varric stifled a chuckle as he and Isabela helped Hawke off the bar and on to her feet.  
“Itzfine, you guys,” she slurred, pushing away from them and stumbling forward. The world was spinning and everything was darker. Varric’s voice boomed around her and she flinched away. “Why ar’you always shoutin’? Shhhh, you hairy dwarf,” she doubled over and giggled. She was funny when she was drunk.  
“Up and attem, big girl,” Isabela heaved her up and slung her over her shoulders. Hawke hiccuped but remained still over wise. “Good girl.”  
Varric, and Isabela walked Hawke back to her mansion and tucked her in her bed.  
“Good night, Hawke,” Varric shook his head and closed the door behind him. Quiet in here, even Bodahn was asleep.  
Isabela and Varric went back to the Hanged Man and drank until morning, as usual. 

Fenris slept a a thin unrestful sleep, his arms over his eyes and his tears drying on his cheeks. His blankets were kicked down at the bottom of the bed. Hawke slept on her back, her shirt pulled half way off in a drunken effort to get undressed. She reeked of alcohol and she had a contented smile playing on her lips. Her house was deathly quiet around her and the rest of Hightown slept too. Only the deepest parts of Kirkwall were still awake. Her mother’s room was dark and completely silent.


	7. White Lilies

“Excuse me, Messere Hawke,” Bodahn knocked gently on her bedroom door. “Are you awake?”   
“Hmm...?” Hawke moaned as she buried her head further under her covers.   
“I’m sorry to bother you, Messere, but it is past noon, and Lady Amell has yet to return.”  
Hawke forced her eyes open and winced at the sunlight in her room.   
“I told you it was late, Messere,” Bodahn said, folding her clothes and placing them back in the drawers. “Had a late night last night, did you?”   
“You said mother wasn’t home yet?” Hawke propped herself up on her elbow and pushed back her hair.   
“No ma’am, she wasn’t here last night either. Must have found herself a suitor, too.”  
His ‘too’ rang hollow in her ears. She didn’t have a suitor. Maybe she didn’t even have a friend. Not after how she treated Fenris last night. Stupid stupid stupid.   
“Do you know of her suitor, Bodahn?”   
“Not much, I’m afraid. Only that they sent your mother these lovely white lillies the day before yesterday.” Lillies, something about that rang a faint bell in her head. Maybe she was still drunk. Probably nothing.   
“Okay, thank you Bodahn. I’m getting up now, thank you for waking me. Please send word if mother comes back while I’m out. I want to hear all about this suitor.”  
“Yes, Messere,” Bodahn nodded his head as he closed the door behind her. She heard him walk down the stairs and then it was quiet.   
She rolled out of bed, the blanket still draped over her shoulders and shuffled down to take a quick bath. She was so hung over, something which almost never happened to her. Bodahn had already drawn her a bath and she stepped her foot in it. It was tepid, probably because she took so long to wake up. It’s my own damn fault, I guess.   
She ducked her head under the water and sat there for a second, enjoying the muffled silence. She’d pay a visit to Merrill today, maybe, and see how her restoration of the E something was going. I can’t get drunk again tonight, I think mother would kill me.   
Where is she anyway?   
She toweled off and combed back her hair. Her bath helped her hang over, her headache receding to just a dull throbbing in the back of her eyes. She ran down the stairs two at a time and made to walk out the front door and to the alienage when she saw, out of the corner of her eye -- white lillies on the mantle. She could smell their strong perfume from here. She touched the velvety petals, something about this stirred memories deep in her mind. It made her head pound to think about it. What about these --   
Gamlen slammed open the front door and stormed in.   
“Where is she? We had an appointment and she never showed.”  
“What? What’s going on Gamlen? Who and what are you talking about?”  
“Your mother! We meet regularly and she never showed up. Is she here?”  
“I’m sorry, master Gamlen, the Lady has not been home all night.”  
“What?” Gamlen stared accusingly at Hawke, spittle flying as he jabbed a shaking finger in her face.   
She pushed it away and said, “No, Bodahn thinks she found someone to occupy her time.”  
“Oh really? Someone important enough to blow off her own brother?” he paused, looking around the room for the first time since he arrived. “Are those from this suitor person?” He asked, an edge to his voice, as he walked over to the lilies on the mantle.   
“Yes, apparently.”  
“They’re white, what an odd color.” Something about that dredged up memories in Hawke’s mind again. Something was wrong. Something something somethingsomethingsomething. A man in Hightown. A missing wife. A ring. A lover.   
White lilies.   
The color in Hawke’s face drained and her knees buckled beneath her. She crashed to the floor, unable to breathe.   
“Girl? What is it?” She just stared at him, her words escaping her. For the moment. Maybe forever. Her mother, something had happened. Those white lilies. The fragrance from them was suffocating her.   
She pulled herself up using her uncle’s sleeve and shook in his arms. He shot a confused look at Bodahn who just shrugged at him.   
“She’s gone.”  
“She’s, she’s what?”   
“She’s gone, uncle. We need to go find her. It wasn’t a suitor, it was a criminal. A serial killer, maybe. We have to go,” she grabbed her coat and ran out the front door, leaving Gamlen and Bodahn alone in the foyer with her mother’s flowers.


End file.
